Kire looked clearly torn between wanting to be polite and instead staying someplace that wouldn’t dislodge him from his current arrangement and taking up the offer of a room with a spectacular view. 
“Why, Kay, is this place too small and humble for the Empress?” Narda teased.
“No!” Kire hissed. “You shut it. Yes, if you don’t mind, we could stay here for tonight and find new lodgings tomorrow. I am rather eager to see the cliffs at sunrise.” Dawns were less dramatic than sunsets, but they had their own quiet beauty that Kire still appreciated. Beside her, Narda stretched, yawning, sincerely looking forward to rest. She, Myka, and the crew had been harassing the Gemini-occupied ports, and she hadn’t had a proper night’s rest for a while, same as Kire. Kire chuckled at her friend, understanding her tiredness. “Thanks, Ruli.” 

Contrary to Narda’s teasing earlier, the two had been used to staying in camps, ships, and chambers of every sort throughout their long friendship. After Ruli left, the two stayed in the patio, admiring the serene landscape in silence or carrying on conversation in Taakalon. “You got that look in your eye,” Narda said, “that look that says ‘fuck everything, I want to stay here.’” 
“Amria has places like this, I’m sure,” Kire said, though Narda could tell it was a weak defense. 
“It’s not just the beachfront, and you know it. And before you punch me again, I don’t mean him, either.” 
Kire sighed. “What would Ed say, if he was here, seeing me be all stupid with my decisions again?” 
Narda glanced sidelong at her friend. “After everything we all have been through? Maybe he’ll say you should be happy.” 
Kire didn’t look quite convinced at that. Guilt, at the thought of not having found him yet, sadness at the idea of losing him a second time, and melancholy at the memory of who Ed had been. He and Jan, the two steady anchors she relied on during her rule. She knew Ed wanted the best for her, but he was a Wyvern, too, and the oldest of the surviving lot. Even before Kire had taken on the burden of the crown, Ed had been learning what responsibility meant. 
Narda and Kire lapsed into silence once again for a while until they were too exhausted to stay up any longer. 

“Wake up, Wyvernling.” Narda grinned, hunched over her sleeping friend. Kire cursed, pushing her away. The giantess laughed. “I thought you wanted to see the dawn.”
“It is not dawn, you liar,” Kire groaned, turning the other way, wrapping her cloak over herself. “Go back to sleep.”
Narda grinned wickedly. She was much more a morning person than Kire ever was, and she was eager to explore this new world at daylight. “Fine. If you say so,” she said, before grabbing Kire and hoisting her up and over her shoulder. 
“NARDA!” 
Any of the elves who would have already been awake at the time would have seen the hulking woman carrying another cocooned in a travelling cloak while traversing the winding path. “Put me down, or I swear by all the gods you hold dear—” 
“Fine, fine,” Narda sighed, snickering as she set her down carefully outside. Kire glared at her, pointing an angry fist at the giantess’s chin, then sighing, grumpy, as she let it down. The two of them looked about, at the gentle dawn light giving everything a soft, warm glow, and Kire had to admit this was worth getting up for.